Las flores silvestres que sueñan (The wildflowers who dream)
Content Warning: Sexual Abuse
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Wilting
My mind is uneasy
stirred and shifting
Flickering lights
signal changing faces
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The earth beneath your feet rumbles
The birds are out of tune —
uprooted and unclear
a circulation of fear
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A fool to dream
or perhaps foolish desires?
Woven, stitched deep
into layers just out of reach
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This is the place
yes, this is the place
Watch it appear
then drip, drip away
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Rotting
I ache for another day —
be it an unreachable day
One only in a dream
gone by the time you wake
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I ache for a deeper sleep —
be it tonight or the next
One that restores my mind
so, I can live
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I ache for a new body —
be it young or old
One that knows love
deep in its veins
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I ache for better hands —
be them nimble and lean
Ones that will paint
paint without fear
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I ache for another day —
one I know will come
A day I will be here
A day I will ache no more
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Rising
There is an inferno inside of me
I feel it burning
I am no longer afraid
to spit fire
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Places scorched
from wandering eyes, please
sorry — give us a smile
such natural feminine hues
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This trespassory
cannot be buried
it can only be burned
Let this blaze
ignite your body
and the ashes
be all that remains
of the unwelcome visitor
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Tired eyes, hear our cries
deafening and fierce
We are no longer afraid
to spit fire
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Blooming
The vase of flowers
on the table are blooming
freshly picked and young
shades of the autumn sun
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Soft cries tease the sky
I’m silenced by their beauty
delicate and fluid
they dance intuitively
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You see, today
is only today
and tomorrow, I may not rise
but for now, let’s dream
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Like the wildflowers
which bloom in the fields
of your imagination
I am only temporary